David Lewis Paget

The Toadstool Man

He was known as the local MycophagistIn the dales, the woods and the hills, What happened was sad, for he wasn’t so badJust a tad underdone, Toby Gills, They say that the cord was around his neck, He was born with a carroty mop, And a pale white head, he was almost deadWhen the doctor had called out ‘Stop! ’

They cut the cord and they let him breathe, The damage was already done, The blood had been stopped to his carroty topSo they said that he’d always be dumb.But he found a niche where the fungi creepsAnd went out collecting the spore, In a year or two he knew more than youAnd the college Professor next door.

He studied his mushrooms with loving intent, He knew about hen of the woods, He knew about bracket and shaggy manes, magicAnd paddy straw, they were the goods; He fostered his lobster and hedgehog and oysterAnd coral fungi and stinkhorns, But didn’t discern between fly agaricsAnd toadstools that grew in the lawn.

He grew his spore in a deep, dark cellarAnd sold to the folk who came by, And never would judge between Widow WellerAnd the ordinary witches of Rye, He’d sell death caps, and pigskin puffballsNot thinking to question them why, Or who would be eating his laughing Jim’sAnd whether they knew they would die.

The air was thick and the air was dampAnd he fell in the dark one day, Scattering toadstools into the airAnd their spores had floated away, He breathed the spores right into his lungsFor he hadn’t been wearing a mask, But sucked them in right over his tongueAnd they came to his lungs, at last.

I happened to see him out in the streetHe was finding it hard to breathe, He could only take a couple of stepsThen sit on the kerb, to heave, I tried to help but he waved me awayAnd his eyes were yellow and cruel, Then I saw what he’d thrown up on the kerbSome yellow and red toadstools.

The man was a walking toadstool sporeThey were popping up out of his hair, Pushing their way though his carroty topIn a bid to get to the air, And his skin was blotched like a puffball, heLooked up at me, and he cried, As a giant toadstool grew from his throatAnd he lay on his side, and died.